Saturday, January 21, 2012

Sitting in my shop staring at all the machines. Not a sound. No
movement. Everything is completely still. I just keep staring and
staring at my machines. I’m trying to make all of these cast iron
monsters magically come to life and start making all the things I need
to make. If I squint my eyes really tight? My vision is like one of
those telepathic moments in the movies where the disturbed kid alone in
her room makes her toy solder band come to life. They are marching and
tooting little horns and beating tiny drums in tune to some long
forgotten German military song of victory. Suddenly mom walks in and
they all drop lifeless on the floor. Like they were never alive at all.
My machines would be playing a in a very similar fashion. Except the
music would be sounds of clattering and metal on metal banging. The
wurrring alternating current electric motors straining hard to twist and
form steel into shapes I have only visualized in the very back of my
brain. Welders would be welding, and sanders would be throwing a rain of
sparks, making everything babies butt smooth. What a sight that would
be. My hands would be directing every move, and every cut with precision
like a conductors baton. I would not have to physically move my body
from where I was sitting. I could just stay stationary puffing away on
my Tiparillo. This would be the perfect world. Never breaking a sweat,
and hands never getting dirty. I would never again have to stop my
battered fingers from bleeding with Crazy Glue and duct tape. Now that I
think about it I wouldn’t need steel toe Blundstones, and could just
wear my pajamas all day. Oh what a glorious world. I just keep staring.
Nothing is moving. A slight breeze comes in the door and sweeps across
my face. I take this as the sign that the mental powers that I have
unleashed upon my workshop are about to take full effect. My brow
tightens, my fists clench. My inner voice now at 200 decibels screams
out! I COMMAND THEE!!
Still nothing.
My staring is now growing weary. I find it hard to focus on anything
in particular. I look down at the top of my toolbox that I sitting next
too, and realize I have one bite left of my sandwich. I pluck it up and
pop it into my mouth. I guess my lunch break is officially over.
I’d better get back to work.

If I wernt doing a short scale bass, I would build a sexy baritone. This is a 30" scale, but I'm now doing a 32" to reduce slop factor. Technical term.
Im thinking of doing a hybrid of this body and the mustang upper horn.